


in vino veritas

by thesecretdetectivecollection



Category: Football RPF
Genre: M/M, University AU, in the broadest strokes possible really, they were roommates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-14
Updated: 2018-04-14
Packaged: 2019-04-22 15:08:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14311362
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thesecretdetectivecollection/pseuds/thesecretdetectivecollection
Summary: Jamie and Stevie are staying in their flat instead of going home for spring break. They laugh and drink with friends, until Stevie says something interesting and they have to deal with the fallout.





	in vino veritas

It’s that rare, glorious time that arises when exams are over, but it isn’t quite time to go home yet. Stevie and Jamie aren’t going home for spring break anyway—it’s too short to make the trip worth it. It had been hard, to decide to study in London when their families were in Liverpool, but they’d met the first week of school and here they were a year later, living together in a two bedroom flat in student housing.

Part of the reason they weren’t going home was that their rent was so obnoxiously high that any additional expenses other than food and utilities were pretty much out of the question—they even shared an internet plan with their next-door neighbors because splitting an unlimited plan four ways was cheaper than splitting a worse plan in two.

Besides, they had a family of their own now—a ragtag little uni family that filled the gaps most of the time, when their parents and brothers were too far away.

So Stevie and Jamie were sitting on their ratty old couch, with Phil and Alex sitting on cushions on the floor, trading old stories and telling dirty jokes.

There were two bottles of wine being passed around and a bottle of scotch as well, and they each took a few gulps and passed it along. Things start to feel a bit funnier and everyone grows slightly more honest, and eventually, Phil and Alex get up unsteadily and declare that they have to go to bed, so they stumble across the corridor into their own flat and then it’s just Stevie and Jamie, sharing the one bottle of wine that’s lasted this long.

“Ugh, did you see that girl in statistics? With the blonde hair? She’s totally in love with you, J. Couldn’t keep her eyes off you, it was ridiculous.”

Jamie giggles. “You think every girl who looks at me is in love with me.” It’s true, after all. Stevie seems to think him much more attractive than he actually is.

“That’s because I’m projecting,” Stevie says lightly.

They’re both psychology majors, and Jamie knows what it means, to project something onto someone else, but that would imply—

“Are you kidding, or are you being serious right now?” Jamie doesn’t know how to ask it gently, so the words come out in his typical abrasive way, almost as if he wants it to be a joke, and Stevie flushes, going a deep, deep red.

He plucks the bottle from Jamie’s hand and takes a long, long gulp of liquid courage, not stopping until the bottle is empty.

“Been in love with you for years now,” he admits eventually, “I thought you knew—everyone says I’ve been so obvious.”

Jamie closes his eyes and a flood of memories come to mind—times when their friends had teased them about being an old married couple, times when they’d played along, and times when Stevie hadn’t played along, just flushed and looked away.

He hadn’t thought much of it then, but in retrospect—in retrospect it all made a lot of sense. He pauses and when he opens his eyes again, Stevie’s halfway across the room, stumbling towards his bedroom. Jamie doesn’t hesitate, just follow him in, grabbing a glass of water and making sure Stevie drinks it all and lays on his side in case he needs to be sick. He sits there, on the edge of Stevie’s bed, for a long time, watching his best friend sleep and wondering where they’ll go from there.

He gets up and goes to his own bedroom at some point, lays in bed still thinking about the man in the next room, and before he falls asleep, he decides what he’ll do.

Stevie wakes up to a note and a plate of pancakes, and he’s glad they mostly stuck to wine last night, because he doesn’t feel sick at the smell of the food like he does after beer.

Jamie’s out in the lounge, laying around and writing for his thesis, a semicircle of open books laying around him on the floor with sticky notes of different colors annotating them.

“Morning, J,” he says with a yawn.

Jamie smiles at him. “Morning, Sleeping Beauty. I always forget you’re such a lightweight, you know.”

Stevie waves off the joke and lays down on the sofa, watching him write for a few minutes before the grumbling in his stomach makes him get up to retrieve his plate before he comes back and starts eating.

“Why did you make me breakfast? Not that I’m complaining, mate, I’m just wondering.”

Jamie doesn’t quite know what to say at first. _Because you told me you loved me last night_ seems a bit… on the nose.

But it’s Jamie, after all. And Jamie doesn’t like to let things fester. “Because you told me you loved me last night and I wanted to say—I dunno, I guess I wanted to say I love you too.”

Stevie chokes on his pancake.

No, _really_ , he _chokes_ on his pancake. Jamie jumps up and thumps him on the back until he coughs out the damn pancake and sits next to him, staring at him.

“I told you I loved you last night?!” Stevie gasps, still trying to breathe like a functional human being.

“ _In vino veritas_ , Steve, at least for a lightweight like you.”

“I don’t—I don’t want to push you into doing something just to make me happy, J. You don’t have to pretend to love me just because I want you.”

Jamie’s silent for a moment, considering his own feelings. “I’m not pretending,” he says softly, “I want to try with you. I don’t know if it’s love quite yet, but I’m attracted to you, and I have been for awhile now, and I want to be yours. If you’ll have me.”

Stevie would have laughed, but he doesn’t want to risk it, considering that he’d just choked half a minute ago. So he leans over and kisses Jamie instead, only feeling self-conscious when he tastes the mint of Jamie’s mouth and remembers that he hasn’t brushed his teeth and probably tastes of stale wine and morning breath.

He pulls away, flushing in embarrassment, but Jamie pulls him back in, for another kiss and another, until he forgets to feel bad and starts to just _feel_ —Jamie’s body is familiar, after years of sharing a bathroom and a flat, but feeling it like this, against him when they’re not leaning on each other to steady themselves when they’re hammered—it’s curiously new, and the sparks in his belly suddenly bloom and he enjoys the feeling more than he thought he would.

“We need more wine,” he mumbles when they finally pull apart.

Jamie, of course, laughs.

And then he kisses him again.


End file.
